


Ugly Comfort

by SittingInACoffeeShop



Series: Promptober [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Adult Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Crochet, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a super supportive boyfriend ok, Engaged Reddie, M/M, October Prompt Challenge, Prompt Fic, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie crochets as a comfort activity, Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters, comfort activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingInACoffeeShop/pseuds/SittingInACoffeeShop
Summary: “I-I...I make...I make sweaters...” Richie murmured so low that Eddie could barely make out what he said.“Okay...?” Eddie coaxed.“They’re, uh...it’s a stupid...stupid comfort kind of thing I do,” Richie continued, face going as red as the ripest tomato.Eddie looked around at all of the sweaters and rolls of fabric again.“You...you made these?”Richie nodded, face glowing even more with embarrassment.Promptober Day 1: Sweater Weather
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Promptober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948711
Comments: 24
Kudos: 182





	Ugly Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello and happy October!
> 
> I'm going to follow the October Prompt List that the awesome Han (eddiekraspbak on Tumblr + Twitter) posted in our discord!
> 
> I won’t be able to do ALL of these for every day of October, but I'm going to try and do as many as possible.
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

**Promptober Day 1:**

**Sweater Weather**

Eddie was beyond frustrated.

He and Richie had just finished moving into their first house and the clutter was about more than Eddie could bear. Their shit was _everywhere,_ and despite the clearly labeled boxes, it was still nearly impossible to find anything specific.

They were supposed to be meeting the other Losers for a celebratory Congratulations-On-The-New-House dinner in less than an hour, and Eddie was trying to find his jackets and coats but was having absolutely no luck.

Why the hell were his jackets and coats _not_ in the boxes labeled “Eddie Spaghetti’s Clothes?!” Where else could they possibly be?

Eddie gave a loud noise of frustration.

“Still can’t find them, Eds?” Richie called from somewhere in the house.

“No! I can’t find jack shit!”

“Did you try checking the box labeled ‘Jack Shit?’” Richie called out again.

“Not funny, asshole! What if they somehow got lost in the move?” Eddie shouted back.

The only response Eddie received was the blow dryer turning on. Eddie sighed. 

At least Richie was actually blow drying his hair for once though. Usually he just walked out of the house with wet hair and it drove Eddie nuts. Especially when it was cold outside. It was just a few days ago Eddie had to scold Richie for running a midnight errand in the forty-degree weather with a dripping wet head.

Eddie noticed a box at the very top of a precariously stacked tower of boxes. He couldn’t tell what it was labeled but it was worth a shot. It looked like it was already partly open, the tape pulled up a fair bit off the top and the sides as though someone had opened it just enough to slip their hand in and grab something.

Eddie went to grab the stepladder, and by the time he got back the blow dryer was off. There was no way Richie’s hair was completely dry, but Eddie figured he could choose his battles.

Once on the ladder, Eddie inspected the large box, wondering why it looked as though someone had reached in to grab something rather than just unloading the box as a whole. He read the scribbled words on the side:

**“CHRISTMAS GIFTS DON’T OPEN”**

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he shuffled the box into his arms with a fair bit of difficulty.

A box of Christmas gifts? That was a little odd. There’s no way Richie already bought everyone’s gifts for the holidays. What the hell was-

“Shit!” Eddie exclaimed as he missed a step and the box slipped out of his hands, landing with a loud thud on the floor.

The contents burst out of the box in a mess of colorful fabric.

“What the hell-” Eddie looked down at the mess he had caused with genuine confusion...because, seriously, what the hell?

There were multiple sizes of large thick knitting-type needles scattered on the floor...one hooked up and currently in the process of making...something.

Rolled clumps of fabric that had yet to create anything rolled out across the hardwood floor. Various sizes and styles of sweaters were chaotically spilled about as though someone had just shoved them into the box rather than folding them neatly.

“Eds?! Are you okay?!” Richie called out in concern.

“Uh...yeah!” Eddie replied distractedly, stepping off the ladder and going to crouch over the mess.

Some of the sweaters could actually be considered fashionable, while others were...not.

Eddie grabbed what was probably considered the ugliest one and held it up. It was a mess of gold, juniper green, squash orange, sky blue, cream, and black. It was such an odd combination of colors, yet...it somehow worked. Eddie wasn’t sure how, but it did.

It was ugly, yet comforting.

It also appeared as though it had never been worn. In fact, none of them looked worn at all.

“Eds, are you-” Richie rushed into the room, concern still in his voice.

Eddie lowered the sweater a bit but didn’t look away from the fabric, still feeling as though he were finding something new in the pattern the longer he stared at it.

“What the hell is this?” Eddie laughed. “What, are you dating a color-blind old lady behind my back, Rich?”

It was all in good fun, it really was. Eddie and Richie always poked fun at each other. That’s what they did, and it was a large part of what their relationship _was._ And a portion of that was making fun of Richie’s fashion sense because he had the most questionable style choice out of all of the Losers hands-down.

So when Eddie looked up, he was completely unprepared for the look of _scared_ and broken _hurt_ on Richie’s face.

The smile immediately fell from Eddie’s face as he dropped the sweater and stood up.

“Rich, what’s-”

Richie blatantly avoided Eddie’s careful hand reaching toward him and knelt on the ground.

That was like a punch to the gut. Richie _never_ avoided his touch.

“I-it’s just some...j-just some stuff my...it’s j-just...” Richie mumbled, face low to his chest as he tried to desperately gather the mess back into the broken box; as though that would somehow stop Eddie from wondering about it and completely forget that it even happened.

Eddie felt a twisting in his gut.

“Rich...Richie, hey,” Eddie knelt down to help but Richie flinched. And that _hurt._

Why was Richie acting like this?

Eddie felt like such a piece of shit.

Scratch that...he felt worse than shit...he felt like...well, he wasn’t sure what was worse than shit, but damn it that’s what he felt like.

“Richie, babe, come on...what is all this?” Eddie held up a striped pink and white sweater.

Richie sighed a little and blinked hard before looking up with a stupid, forced smile on his face, “What are you talking about, Eds? The best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time.”

Eddie just stared at him.

“One with a collar, turtle neck-”

“Rich.”

“That’s the kiiiiiind.”

“Richie,” Eddie stated again patiently though with seriousness.

“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize that Spongebob reference, Eds. If that’s the case, I may have to retract our engagement. Can't marry someone who can’t quote Spongebob with me,” Richie kept speaking with forced breeze as he continued sloppily pushing the contents back into the wrecked box.

His hands were visibly shaking.

“Richie,” Eddie said softly.

Richie stopped and clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists on his knees. He sighed heavily and looked to the side.

“What?”

“What’s going on?” Eddie pushed gently.

Richie bit the insides of his cheek. A nervous habit that looked sort of like a facial twitch to others, but Eddie could easily recognize it for what it was.

“I’m...they’re, uh...” Richie started in a shaky sort of voice.

And if _that_ wasn’t worrisome. If Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier couldn’t form words then that was definitely a cause for concern.

But Eddie waited patiently, allowing him to gather up whatever courage he needed to tell him what he needed to know. He placed a hand on Richie’s own, but it didn’t ease up much of the tension there.

“I-I...I make...I make sweaters...” Richie murmured so low that Eddie could barely make out what he said.

“Okay...?” Eddie coaxed.

“They’re, uh...it’s a stupid...stupid comfort kind of thing I do,” Richie continued, face going as red as the ripest tomato.

Eddie looked around at all of the sweaters and rolls of fabric again.

“You...you _made_ these?”

Richie nodded, face glowing even more with embarrassment.

“Oh, Rich, I’m...I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I thought they were just...I didn’t mean-” 

“Don’t sweat it, Eds,” the words rushed out of Richie’s mouth. “I know they’re not any good and they’re not really...they’re ugly as shit, I know. I just make them because it’s relaxing and-”

“Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck are you _talking_ about? These are great! They’re amazing, babe-”

And they really were. Some of the color combinations were questionable, but nonetheless very well-made.

Richie rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated puff of air.

“You don’t have to say that, man. I’m not expecting any sort of compliment or-”

“No, no, no, really! I mean it. They’re great,” Eddie said, picking up the super tacky one he had been inspecting earlier. 

“Honestly, I don’t blame you for thinking that one in particular is ugly,” Richie smirked a bit. “I just had a bunch of odd, leftover rolls and so I just...sorta made it and..."

Richie seemed to be shrinking into himself the longer they talked.

“How did you...I mean, when did you start making these?” Eddie asked.

Eddie felt horribly ashamed he didn’t know this about his best friend, lover, _fiancé._ How could he have not known about this?

Richie seemed uncertain about answering at first but after a few seconds he replied, “M-Momma Tozier taught me how our senior year of high school. I stopped doing it when my college dormmate saw and had a real laughing fit about it. Thought it was...”

Richie trailed off and looked to the side.

”He was a stereotypical douchey frat bro,” Richie chuckled.

But Eddie didn’t think it was funny at all. His eyebrows furrowed and his expression became all the more serious.

“It was just a way to help with anxiety, y’know? Momma Tozier thought it might help and it did, so...And I picked it up again a couple years ago,” Richie shrugged.

And if _that_ didn’t make Eddie feel even worse.

Richie and his mother had had a very close bond. When she passed away three years prior, Richie was absolutely devastated.

And Eddie had been _making fun_ of a comforting hobby _she had taught him-_

Eddie sighed heavily and looked down at the floor, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“I know it’s...it’s not the most _manly_ of hobbies or whatever, but it makes me feel better-”

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that, okay? None of that,” Eddie said. “It’s something that makes you happy, so who the hell cares, right?”

He and Richie both had lasting scars from Henry Bowers and his gang of idiot lackies attacking them physically and verbally any chance they got. They would call them every horrid name and slur in the book. And just because it was a common occurrence didn’t mean it didn’t hurt every single time. Richie was always a lot better at disguising the pain from it than Eddie was.

And the fact that some random, stupid fuckingguy made Richie feel bad about himself - potentially just like Bowers used to - made Eddie fume.

“Fuck your dormmate, dude,” Eddie finalized. “You knitted all of these-”

“Crochet,” Richie corrected.

Eddie nodded in acknowledgement, “Crochet. You crocheted all of these...that’s amazing. Seriously.”

Richie laughed in an empty sort of way. “It’s not. It's-”

Eddie suddenly noticed a detail on the white and pink striped sweater he had been handling. There was a paper tag on the collar attached by a brown cotton string.

“Richie...why does this one have a tag on it that says ‘Bev?’”

Richie just shrugged and seemed to shrink further into himself. He almost resembled a child, his knees pulling up to his chin and hands clasped and fiddling in front of them.

Eddie’s lips tightened in frustration, because...the only time Richie tried to get the attention _away_ from himself was when he was feeling particularly ashamed or uncomfortable about something.

“I was...at some point I thought I was going to start making them as gifts, y’know...it seemed like a good idea at the time, but I just...I don’t know. Changed my mind? I guess?”

Eddie felt like his heart had been punched.

Richie looked like a big, sad puppy sitting there amongst his personally crocheted sweaters.

Eddie couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached for the ugliest of the sweaters. The one he had been making fun of earlier.

Richie visibly flinched.

“Eds, you don’t- that’s the worst one, it’s...just, j-just put it down-”

“No,” Eddie stated firmly.

Richie watched as Eddie stripped himself of his navy crewneck.

He looked so serious. It resembled the time Richie jokingly dressed in a Sexy Nurse costume for Halloween the year before; complete with stocking thigh-highs and a short apron dress. The rest of the Losers laughed, which had been Richie's goal of the evening. Eddie, however, looked strangely serious. Richie was confused and, frankly, a little worried at first. Because...what the fuck was that face? It wasn't until later in the bedroom that Richie found out why he kept looking like that...

Richie donned a hobbled sort of gait for a whole week after that night.

He proudly dubbed it the Halloween Night of Five Times.

The thought made Richie dryly lick his lips.

"You're gonna make me pop a boner here, Eds."

Eddie gave him a look, "Shut up."

Eddie removed his second layer, a white and blue button-up shirt. He discarded it thoughtlessly to the side, not even folding it, which was very un-Eddie-like.

Richie smirked, "I know we've done the 'ol boogie woogie in a time crunch before but, uh, we have to meet the others in thirty minutes. But I'll do my be-"

"First of all...please don't call sex the 'ol boogie woogie.' Second of all..." Eddie spoke as he slipped the large sweater over his head.

Richie couldn't help but blush at seeing Eddie in a sweater he'd made.

“Hoh shit this is comfortable,” Eddie breathed out, in total aw of just how cozy and warm he felt. “What’s this made out of?”

“My chest hair.”

“Gross.”

“With a sprinkle of pubes.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“But you love me,” Richie smirked, seeming to emerge further and further from the shamed barrier he had built up.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, deep and slow to prove just how much he did indeed.

“You’re damn right I do, shit head,” Eddie smiled, their noses touching. “Now come on. We're running late for dinner. Stan’s gonna be pissed.”

Richie watched Eddie stand up, then he looked back down at his crochet supplies and sweaters.

Then he looked back up at Eddie as though he had hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“You’re actually going to wear that thing out?” Richie asked, surprise and happiness coming through in his voice.

“Damn right I am. I love it. And I love _you.”_

Richie smiled and stood up from the floor.

”Lemme go grab my jacket from the bedroom. I’ll be right back,” Richie said, hurrying from the room.

Eddie smiled after his fiancé’s retreating form. So very happy he was able to bring the genuine smile back to his face.

In a brief moment, he thought to look up at another stack of boxes.

There, plain as day, was a box labeled: **SPAGHETTI MAN’S JACKETS/SWEATSHIRTS**

Eddie looked down at the sweater he was wearing now.

Yeah, this sweater was _a lot_ better than any old jacket he had in that stupid box.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> TW for mention of bullying  
> TW for mention of parent death
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


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